


When The Sun Rises Again

by CityofFallenAngels



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character Death(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9119335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityofFallenAngels/pseuds/CityofFallenAngels
Summary: **SPOILER ALERT**In which Joshua Faraday had a different ending, or didn't die, because he seriously didn't deserve the ending that he got. I was literally protesting the whole time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So...this fic had been sitting in my folder half-done since October this year, and only today did I cross over it and was I surprised. I opened it, finished it, and decided to post it. I hope you enjoy. And no, I still cannot accept that Joshua Faraday was really gone in the movie. I could not believe it and thought it was some big joke till the end when I realised it was real. :(

Joshua Faraday had always known he was a lucky man. 

Or if he wasn’t, he created his own luck. Faraday had had many close shaves with death, at a hair’s breath, in front of a pistol pointed at him, a broken bottle about to pierce his face, riding on an out-of-control bull, any wild thing you could think of. What was true was that he wasn’t really lucky, he just knew very well how much he could gamble.

But even he did not think that he would survive the insane idea he had come up with to sneak up to the Gatling Gun and fling a dynamite to them. But sneak he did. He crawled through the grass field, pummelled with bullets in his body, knowing any second his head could be blown off. The dynamite pressed close against his trembling body. The blood from his gunshot wound flowed out warm and unceasing, and he faintly wondered if it left a red trail on the path behind him. Throughout this crawling it gave him a lot of time to think about his life. He thought about Emma, the woman who had lost her husband. He thought about Chisol, the honourable man who had trusted the woman first and foremost. He thought about himself, and how in the past he would have put himself as being a shallow man because that was how he would have wanted people to see him, this mask, and he wondered if the past Joshua Faraday, the one who was young and greedy for winning, would ever want to give his life up like this. But then Emma flashed to his mind, her eyes that shone with pain yet resolution, her unwavering loyalty to her husband, and he knew he would do it again.

He reached behind them, murmured a prayer for forgiveness for his sins, knowing that this was really it, Joshua Faraday was going to die. Even though he was at a distance to them, he knew he was too close to survive. He leapt up and flung the dynamite all in the span of three seconds. The world exploded in a multitude of colours and noise, and Faraday went along with it.

* * *

Or that was what he thought.

Faraday cracked his eyes open to an obnoxiously bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. He stared at it for a very long time.

Funny, he didn’t know hell looked like this. Not that he wanted to go to hell, but Faraday had never dared hope that men like him would end up in heaven.

And then—smoke. Thick dark smoke wafted into the air from a corner at the right. Faraday dragged himself upright, crying out at the bullet in his leg, shaking with how much blood he had lost, and realised he was on the same field he had been earlier. The area he had flung the dynamite on was a black charred mess. The explosion had thrown him a distance off. 

He was alive. _How could I be alive?_

He coughed out dust and dirt, letting out another cry of pain as he stood, clutching his ripped open abdomen. Far in the distance, he spotted the town. Were they dead? Had they lost? He spotted the bloody red trail he had left while dragging his body across the field, like someone had held a paintbrush dipped in crimson and drew a thick line like a macabre painting across. He found it an irony that this very trail that he thought would be leading him to his doom would be leading him right back. Half-conscious and feverish with shock, he dragged himself back to town, hoping he wouldn't die on the way home.

* * *

Somehow, he reached there. He didn't know what to expect once he reached there, but bodies littered the the dusty floor. Men, women, old, young. A sick feeling bubbled up his throat as he walked on...and on...and on. Each step, he wondered where he would find the bodies of his teammates. The battle had only just been over. People were cheering, people were wailing, their cries of such grief it would haunt Faraday's memories forever, but all Faraday wanted to find was the Maginificent Seven. 

He found them outside the bar. 

The look on their faces should have been hilarious. They looked like they saw a ghost, their eyes wide with disbelief. Vasquez dropped the gun he was holding. If he had been more lucid, he would have realised not all of the Seven were there. There was too much blood pouring out of him.

“Faraday,” Sam whispered, his eyes wide. Faraday tried to speak, wanted to give a smile, but the unconsciousness he had so stubbornly evaded called to him and his knees buckled and he collapsed into a pair of strong arms. There was a cry, and then he knew no more.

* * *

Darkness. Pitch-black darkness everywhere.

Somewhere in that chasm, voices floated past, hopelessness mixed with the sounds of someone sobbing.

_“I’m sorry Ma’am, he lost a lot of blood. His system is in shock. He’s slipped into a coma…”_

_“Save him, please, try to save him. He saved us all.”_

* * *

_"Ma’am…it’s been almost a week.”_

_“Stop.”_

_“He hasn’t shown any signs of regaining consciousness, maybe-”_

_“You are a_ doctor _. How can you give up on him?”_

* * *

Faraday rather liked this darkness. This chasm of nothingness and in-between. For the first time since he could remember, life was....slow. He was at peace. He felt no pain at all. Nothing. Occasionally voices floated across his subconsciousness. A gentle singing, the most melodious humming he had ever heard. And then a strange song, sounding so ancient yet hauntingly beautiful and mournful at the same time. A hand, holding his. Voices talking, and then not talking, letting him be at peace. A voice with a lilted accent spoke.

_"You are not a bad man." It said. "I do not know why you like to pretend to be. You care for the woman. You care about your comrades. But you do not show it. Why do you not freely be who you are?"_

Because showing care is weakness. Faraday had always thought that way. He had learnt it the hard way being bullied, being smaller than others as a child. He would have said that but he couldn't. He almost jumped and wondered if that voice had some mind-reading powers when it continued,

_"My ancestors are not...emotional people. I was raised my whole life that way. But I learnt that to care is not a weakness. It is love that drives us to be who we are, love for our tribe, love for our family. I am loyal to my tribe, but now I see it is perhaps not so bad to understand other people. Perhaps that is my true path."_

 That voice said no more, and some time later another voice drifted in, this time sounding lighter yet he didn't think it was so.

_"Hey guero, you are missing out on all the booze we are having."  There was a sigh. "Ah, who I kid. We drink to drown our worries. Open your eyes so we can drink out of happiness. When are you gonna stop being sleeping beauty?"_

Faraday almost laughed. There was a gasp. 

_"His finger! It moved!"_

_Some time later footsteps came in. There was a pause and then a voice answered, "His condition is still the same. I'm afraid it could have just been a muscle twitch..."_

* * *

 Slowly the darkness faded away, and the voices disappeared. Faraday slowly cracked his eyes open. Dusk light streamed from a window he could see from his peripheral vision. There was a soft snore beside him. Faraday coughed. Immediately there was a sharp gasp, and the sound of a chair beside him scraping back abruptly. “You’re awake. I’ll get the doctor.”

Faraday’s hazy vision cleared to see a familiar face above him. Chisolm.

“Wait…where am I?” He rasped. His throat was parched. Chisolm seemed to notice that, and he quickly fed him some water from a mug.

“An inn in town. You’ve been unconscious for almost two weeks.”  

“Did they…did the rest survive?”

“Not Horne, Goodnight and Billy Rocks…” Chisolm’s voice was heavy. “Only Emma, Red Harvest, Vasquez and you and I are left of the Seven.”

“So many…so many…” Faraday could only whisper.

“They never left your side all through the week. They each took turns. Emma was singing a lot to you, Vasquez found a guitar and couldn't stop playing it. Even Red Harvest has a soft side apparently, he was singing songs from his home. And that man can _sing_.”

He should be happy, being alive, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to be. He rarely ever showed vulnerability to people, but tears filled his eyes. He felt the sting of the bullet wounds in his body, but it couldn’t compare to the pain that was flooding him now. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears, and turned to his side facing away from Chisolm.

“I need to be alone for a while.”

Chisolm seemed to understand. He nodded and left silently.

At some point later, after the doctor had checked him over, the team spilled into the room. It was dawn by now, and with the warm sunlight he could see the haggard yet overjoyed faces of his team.

Emma embraced him the moment she saw him, tears rolling down her cheeks. It was a rare display of affection from the woman, but he knew it had been her who was humming to him all this time. Vasquez came in and gave his friend a clap on the back as hard as he was allowed to. Red Harvest's face was passive, but to Faraday’s and perhaps everybody’s shock, he walked over and held Faraday’s shoulder.

“I am glad you are awake.” He said in his lilted accent, and Faraday could have sworn he saw a brief smile.

Looking at their faces, he realised they were just glad that they were still together, still here. 

“Yeah, I’m glad too.”

 The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, please do leave a kudos or review! There are much appreciated. Thank you!


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